


Eventful Vacation

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Beach Episode, F/F, Getting Together, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: When Widowmaker is forced to take time off, she’s surprised to find Sombra bartending in Ilios. Revealing summer outfits and ennui ensue.
Relationships: Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 25
Kudos: 59





	Eventful Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> For the incredible [@moiami23](https://twitter.com/moiami23)\- so sorry for the wait and everyone please go appreciate her and her incredible art!

About a month after Akande retakes control of Talon, he calls Widowmaker to his office and tells her she can take a vacation. When she tells him that’s okay, she doesn’t need one, he orders her to take a vacation.

“I’m reviewing top-level personnel, Lacroix,” Akande says. He’s sitting behind his desk, papers and holovid projections scattered across its surface. He’s wearing reading glasses and the sleeves of his button-down are rolled up. Widow thinks about the newspaper headlines panicking over the terror wrought by the infamous third Doomfist, and how much the man himself just looks like a remarkably handsome accountant right now. “You haven’t taken time off in the entire time I’ve been in prison. That is… untenable.”

“I don’t need time off,” Widow says.

“I think you should know what you’re denying yourself, before you commit to it.” Widow says nothing. Akande sighs. “You know I’m not saying this out of any doubt or dissatisfaction with your performance.”

She does. Akande has praised her performance in the terse way he has, where it’s spartan enough to feel more legitimate than anything more effusive. He’s asked her to be his backup on missions. Widow knows Akande wouldn’t ask someone to cover his six as a try-out or performance evaluation. He knows she’s good, he trusts her to get the job done.

And that’s why it’s so confusing that he doesn’t seem to want her to do her job. Before she can argue though, he’s turning back to his projections. “You just bought your family home back, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Go work on fixing that up, then, if you can’t think of anything else.” He peers up at her. His glasses are falling down the bridge of his nose. “I run Talon, and I have a life outside of it. You should too, Lacroix.”

Then he starts typing something. Akande has work to do and Widow, apparently, does not. So she buys a train ticket back to Annecy.

-

Widow tries to do what Akande told her to. The Chateau certainly needs work. She goes to the hardware store and comes back with paint and a toolbox. She puts primer down in the hallway and hangs up some paintings.

When she gets to the study, though, she’s greeted by her and Gérard’s wedding picture. It’s propped up on the bookcase, eye level. Widow stands in the doorway and stares at it. She’s not even sure how it got here. Gérard always hated the Chateau. He had called it old money. Widow had laughed along like old money wasn’t some undeniable part of who she was.

She walks over and takes the picture down. Gérard is smiling down at her, his eyes closed. She’s wearing a wedding dress his assistant picked out for. It was fine, she had liked it, Gérard was a war hero almost twice her age with an international image to maintain. She had trusted his judgment.

Widow closes her eyes. When she killed Gérard, she had felt alive, not with pride or happiness or the feral bloodlust that creeps up on her sometimes now. She remembers the anger she felt the night she killed him. She knows that anger wasn’t all bred in a lab. She knows she still wouldn’t have wanted to do it, if she had been given the choice. She knows she isn’t miserable over having done it, either.

Throwing the picture away or hiding it doesn’t seem right. Widow puts it on the desk in study and that doesn’t feel right either. Suddenly this whole house, filled with tarps and construction equipment, doesn’t feel right. Widow turns on the computer at the desk. Clicks around a travel site blindly.

She stops at a page for flights to Greece. The pictures are sunny and colorful for the most part but in the midst of the beach snapshots, there are photos of ancient ruins and an archaeological site. Widow’s always liked history. It’s why she bought back her house.

She charters a flight for that night. She calls a driver and goes to the airport with just her purse. She can shop there. She doesn’t feel like carrying around baggage right now.

The flight’s short, Widow sleeps through it all. The stores are all closed when she arrives in Ilios so she buys essentials at the hotel store. Their shampoo smells like ginger and their robes are a kind of pristine white that couldn’t survive a second in the Chateau. That place is covered in dust and caulking.

She wakes up early, because she always does now. She thinks about going to the gym. It’s what she does every morning in Rome. Akande started teaching her how to spar, when she told him she wanted bigger muscles. When she was a ballerina, she always had to be thin. Gérard used to brag about how he could lift her up with one arm.

Widow doesn’t go to the gym. She gets a frappe at a coffee shop across the street and wanders around until she finds an adequately expensive store that sells resortwear. Everything they sell is jewel-tone florals and off-whites, nothing on trend enough to be stylish or unsellable year after year. Widow buys a towel, a bikini and a sarong and goes to the beach.

The beach is as sunny as the pictures, the sands as white, the ocean as blue. It’s on the smaller side, but not too crowded. But Widow can feel other people’s eyes on her. Some of it might be because of her blue skin, sure, but full-body tattoo grafts aren’t necessarily rare anymore, and her discoloration passes off as that easily enough. Widow realizes this is the most public she’s been with her body, the most skin she’s shown, in a long time. Her stomach folds up as she bends over. It never did that when she danced. She actually has an ass now and she can see people tearing their eyes away from it as she stands up.

It all makes Widow angry and she doesn’t know why. They’re not doing anything. She chose this swimsuit herself. She chose to be here. No one at Talon made her.

She manages to lie down on her towel for maybe a minute until she’s too hot to stay still. She gets up and goes to the bar in the shade.

There are people all around it, but Widow’s able to find a seat. She sits, waiting for the bartender to come to her, and listens to the conversation around her. It’s a resort town so the chatter is polyglot– Widow can make out the French and English and Italian and Spanish, only picks up the greetings and curses of Arabic, can’t really identify much else. The group next to her is multinational, but defaulting to English. They’re talking about some university project. An archaeology dig. Widow leans on her elbow towards them, wondering if it’s the same one she saw on the travel site.

Then a voice breaks through the babble. It’s familiar but it’s utterly bizarre. Especially when it’s Sombra asking her, “What can I get for you?”

Widow whips her head around and sure enough, Sombra is on the other side of the bar. She’s wearing a crop top and short shorts and Widow can see her bathing suit top through the thin yellow t shirt. Sombra’s hair is somehow still perfectly styled despite the heat— Widow can practically feel her own hair frizzing up, and it’s all she can do not to reach a hand up and flatten it down. Sombra’s holding a washrag and smiling at Widow like this isn’t weird at all. Like she actually wants to get Widow a drink.

“What are you doing here?” Widow hisses.

Sombra doesn’t so much as bat an eye. “Working,” she says. “Feel free to take your time. But if someone else comes and the other seats are filled up, you’ll need to buy something or make space.”

Widow stares at her. The corner of Sombra’s mouth curls up, ever so slightly. “I make a mean mezcal cocktail,” she says. “It’s a signature. You want me to make you that?”

Widow could say it’s because she needs to keep Sombra engaged, keep her talking. Widow knows that doesn’t fully explain the jerky nod she gives Sombra. Sombra must know that too, because her smile widens as she gets her bottles.

“So what’re you doing around here?” Sombra says. Widow just stares at her. Sombra bats her eyes. “Just making small talk.”

“I,” Widow says, “am on vacation.”

“That’s nice,” Sombra says. “You look like you could use some time to unwind.” Sombra pours something into a cocktail mixer and starts to shake it. Sombra’s got a nice, big, chest, the kind Widow could never dream of having even now that she’s allowed to have body fat. The bikini top Sombra’s wearing isn’t exactly the most supportive thing, and her tits shake as she does. Widow practically bites through her tongue keeping her eyes on Sombra’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Widow asks.

“You already asked that.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“I think I did.” Sombra pours the drink into a cup. Sticks a little paper umbrella in it and slides it over to Widow. “You came here to relax, right? Maybe you should focus on that.”

Widow’s about to bite out a retort when there’s a call from the English-speaking group, and Sombra spins to them. A bigger, cheesier smile takes over Sombra’s face, and she grabs some beer bottles and doles them out. She leans over the counter to hand one to the girl in the back, and Widow feels angry all over again when the girl giggles.

“You can’t keep enabling us,” one of the group says to Sombra. “Don’t you want us to pay attention to your tour?”

“I get paid anyway,” Sombra says, and the whole group laughs. The person who just spoke quiets when Widow taps their shoulder. They turn to her, and Widow doesn’t miss their eyes dipping over her.

“Excuse me,” Widow says. “But I just came here on a whim, and I haven’t been able to see any of the historical sites. Is that where you’re headed?” The person nods. “Would it be too inappropriate if I tagged along?”

The person hesitates, then looks to Sombra. “As long as you tip,” Sombra says, without missing a beat.

The group laughs again. The person scoots back, making room for Widow to join their circle. Introduces themselves as Dr. Ioannidis. Widow nods along to whatever it is they’re saying. But her attention is on Sombra. Sombra never looks right at her, but Widow can’t look anywhere else.

-

Sombra takes them up a steep cliffside towards the ruins. Some of the group are puffing and falling behind over the steep climb, but Sombra talks to whole way without missing a beat or a step. She guides a wayward professor away from a loose bit of rock, identifies accommodations visible as they take a bird’s eye view of the town, points out a statue of a martial looking man just visible on the horizon.

“That’s why we’re here,” Dr. Ioannidis tells Sombra. “Statues. That’s Ares, and we know where the other statues of the gods are. We’re looking for the goddesses now.”

Sombra raises an eyebrow. “It’s pretty hard to miss him,” she says. “If there were other statues like that one, don’t you think someone would have found all of them by now?”

“They weren’t looking in the right places,” Dr. Ioannidis says. “We need to finish this temple excavation to be sure, but we think the geography of this place was much different from when the statues were made. What we find at this site should tell us where exactly to look.” They pause a moment, surveying the sea. “Athena, Hera, Aphrodite. Based on what we’ve found so far, we believe at least those three are somewhere underwater.”

“You’ll need a different guide for that,” Sombra tells them, and they laugh. Then they glance over their shoulder, spot a wheezing colleague, and fall back to help. Widow’s able to shoulder her way up to join Sombra in the lead.

“I can’t believe you actually studied for this,” Widow says. Sombra shrugs.

“I like knowing where I’m at. And I like history.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” Sombra says. “History’s great. It’s gossiping about a bunch of people who aren’t around to do anything about it.” Widow smiles despite herself, and Sombra smiles back.

They crest the slope they’ve been climbing and the academics spill around them, rushing to a tile floor boarded off for excavation. Widow’s only looked away for a second but when she looks back, Sombra’s wandering off. Towards the cliffront that faces the sea.

There’s no reason for Widow to follow her. There’s no reason for Widow to have followed her this far in the first place. Then the sun hits Sombra’s face as she sits down at the edge, casting her eyes in shadow and the sharp line of her jaw in relief.

Widow walks over and sits down next to Sombra. Sombra is sanguine as she approaches, as though Widow couldn’t just push her to her death with one move right now. She’s probably right to be. She probably has a translocator stashed somewhere, and a few other tricks Widow has no way of knowing about.

She’s utterly calm next to Widow, even though she knows Widow’s a killer. It’s unnerving. The only other person who’s like that is Akande, and Akande trusts her. Even Reaper is uncomfortable around her, though granted, that’s because of who Widow was, not who she is.

Sombra, though. Sombra knows everything about Widow, probably. Sombra doesn’t trust her. And Sombra doesn’t flinch around her. It’s unsettling.

“Why are you here?” Sombra asks.

“I’m on vacation,” Widow says.

“Yeah, and that’s about as in character for you as taking a part time food service job on my time off is for me.” Widow snorts in acknowledgement. Sombra looks her up and down. “Come on. You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

Widow narrows her eyes. She doesn’t trust Sombra, and Sombra doesn’t trust her. Sombra knows everything about her, she knows that. It’s a bad deal. But Sombra’s offering it to Widow with a look that makes Widow want to keep talking, keep Sombra looking at her, no matter what.

“Akande made me,” Widow admits.

Sombra blinks, then she grins. “Tell him I’d like to sign up for that job too.”

“You’re off base all the time,” Widow says.

“Yeah, but I still work then. It’d be nice to have time off.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?” Sombra hesitates. Looks away. Impulsively, Widow reaches out, dips two fingers under Sombra’s chin, and tips Sombra’s face towards her. “I showed you mine,” Widow says.

Sombra’s eyes widen. She looks surprised, and Widow doesn’t think she’s ever seen Sombra look surprised before. It’s a good look on her.

“You busy tonight?” Sombra asks.

“You’re not answering my question.”

“There’s a real quiet beach, on the North side of the island,” Sombra says. “Not far from here. I’m supposed to take these kids there tomorrow,” she jerks her head towards the academics, who are starting to mill not far from them. “But I think we should meet there tonight. Midnight.”

Widow studies Sombra. Sombra’s eyes are hooded, her lips are just parted. Her t shirt is tight around her chest and she smiles when Widow’s gaze dips down to it. “Well?” Sombra says. “You’ll be there?”

It’s not an answer, it’s just more questions. Widow gets up and walks away without answering. Dr. Ioannidis calls out to her but she ignores them. The walk downhill is fast, especially without an entourage of officeworkers. She calls a ride and gets back to her room almost in a daze. When she falls on her hotel room bed, she lets herself be fully consumed by her thoughts.

There are plenty of very good reasons not to take Sombra up on her offer. Sombra’s job is manipulating people. She’s asking Widow to meet her at a secluded location in the middle of the night with no one else. Widow doesn’t think Sombra would kill her– she wouldn’t invite Talon’s wrath like that– but Widow would be placing herself in an absurdly vulnerable situation. The best case scenario is Sombra just wants to hook up, and Widow still won’t learn why she’s here.

Widow rubs her eyes. That’s the thing though. All those life threatening little details are paling before the look in Sombra’s eyes and the way she bit her lip. It’s front and center in her mind and that makes not going mean something else too.

She hasn’t slept with anyone since Gérard. She hasn’t kissed anyone since Gérard. She’s wanted to before, maybe– maybe to with Sombra even– but the opportunity never really presented itself. Possibly because just the idea of flirting felt utterly pointless and demeaning. Probably because almost everyone at Talon looks at her like she’s a tragic monster.

So now that it’s possible and she’s hesitating– Widow flips onto her side, smushing the plush pillows around her head.

She didn’t want to kill Gérard. She hates that she had no control in that action, no opportunity to see her relationship with him continue. Maybe it would have been a long and happy marriage, maybe it would have been him cheating on her with a new 24 year old prestige celebrity the second she turned 30. She never got to find out and she doesn’t know if she grieves for him as much as she grieves for that not knowing.

She hates when Reaper looks at her and only sees Gérard’s Widow. She likes how Sombra looked at her today. She lost a future, she doesn’t want to be kept from making a new one by the past.

But thinking about going to the beach tonight, Widow’s afraid. Not of death or defamation or all the other things Sombra’s capable of. Of kissing Sombra and liking it. She doesn’t know why, she knows it’s not rational, but she’s afraid.

Widow thinks about it as she moves mechanically through the rest of her day– eating dinner at the hotel bar, sitting and drinking beside the pool, showering and redoing her hair and makeup. She thinks about how Sombra would react if Widow didn’t show. Sombra wouldn’t say anything, she realizes. Not out of passive aggression. But because she’s seen Sombra flirt before. And Sombra doesn’t keep flirting if someone doesn’t express interest. Because Sombra doesn’t want a woman who doesn’t want her.

Sombra knows everything about her. And Widow likes being wanted.

Widow wears her bikini and sarong out, because the stores are closed again and the athleisure she flew in on doesn’t feel quite right. The car she calls doesn’t say anything about it. They let her off at the head of a path. Widow can hear the waves as she walks down it.

Then, she hears voices. Multiple voices. She freezes, then moves towards some brush. As she sneaks closer, car headlights blink into view. She hears the whirr of a boat engine.

When Widow crests the hill, peering through scrub brush like a maniac, she sees a small but official Talon operation laid out on the beach before her. Some people are loading machinery from a truck onto a boat. And in the middle of it, Sombra is standing with a holotablet, directing activity.

Widow stands and picks the leaves out of her hair. As she approaches some of the Talon people start to call out, but her blue skin is distinctive. Sombra turns and give Widow a puzzled smile.

“Were you not able to change?”

“I didn’t know I’d be working,” Widow says shortly.

“Oh, no, don’t worry, everything’s handled.” Sombra waves a hand towards the boat. “Just need to know where to look– we thought they were going to be searching the whole archipelago, but that dude told me exactly where to find the goddess statues over drinks. There are divers taking care of getting them up, just, you know. You asked what I was doing.”

“And you answered.”

“Yeah.” Sombra’s attention is momentarily diverted by a heavy clang on the boat, but she quickly turns back to Widow. “Why? What did you–“

She answers her own question. Sombra breaks out into a massive smirk. Widow considers walking into the ocean and never walking out.

“I can get these guys to clear out in like five minutes.”

“Stop,” Widow mutters.

“I’m serious. Your idea is a lot better than mine.”

“I actually care about our work,” Widow says stiffly. “So don’t.”

Sombra’s smirk changes into something softer, and Widow has to look away. Sombra wraps a hand around her wrist. Puts two fingers under Widow’s chin and tilts her head back up. Sombra’s sharp nails barely graze the thin skin of Widow’s neck, and Widow knows Sombra notices her breath hitch in response.

“I like where your head’s at, Spider,” Sombra says. “And I have a car with tinted windows in the lot over there. Think you can actually take a vacation for just a bit?”

Widow nods minutely, and Sombra’s smile goes sharp. She leads Widow over the hill. Widow knows all the Talon personnel are watching them and she doesn’t care. Not when Sombra kisses her so fiercely against the car door, unties her sarong the second the door slams shut behind them. Not when Sombra’s stomach is soft and her sharp nails retract and she tells Widow how perfect her ass is.

If they’re going to see her as a tragic monster, at least let them see her as a tragic monster who can fuck.

-

Sombra heads back to the beach after that. She quickly begins working again so Widow leaves her to it, after she kisses Sombra in full view of her entire operation. Sombra’s smirk is back and much more palatable this time. Like it’s for Widow, not at her.

Widow goes back to her hotel room. She sleeps in the next morning for the first time since she can remember.

Widow flies out the next day, filling her purse with mini shampoo bottles before she goes. As she’s being driven back to the Chateau, Akande texts her.

>I heard about your terrible coincidence.  
>I’d offer to give you Sombra’s location at all times the next time you take a vacation, but I don’t like to promise things I can’t deliver on.  
>I hope she didn’t ruin it for you.

Widow smiles and types back. It’s odd to have intel Akande doesn’t, but she also wants to be able to see his expression when she tells him.

>She didn’t

>Good  
>In case she didn’t tell you, an important informant wanted one of the goddess statues quite badly, and ahead of some rivals.  
>We told him we found one for now.  
>I’m glad she made some effort to make things up to you.

Widow tilts her head. She checks her Sombra contact. No new messages.

>What do you mean?

Three typing dots appear, then disappear. Widow waits, but Akande never responds. She sighs and puts her phone away. She isn’t far from the Chateau now.

When she arrives, things look as dilapidated as ever. She’s so focused on the layers of dust on the window sills that she almost misses it. But as Widow’s walking past the courtyard, she stops.

When she left, all that was there was a defunct fountain. Now, an ancient, tall statue of a woman looms over the mossy stone tiles. She’s holding an apple with one hand, the other arm just covering her naked breasts. Widow thinks back to her favorite high school class. Aphrodite.

Stuck to the priceless stone with duct tape is a bright orange sticky note. Widow walks over and carefully peels it off.

_Sorry about making you work on your time off. If you want another way to relax, you can give me a call._

And then a purple sugar skull. Widow laughs and puts the note in her purse. Tomorrow. She wants to do some work on the house now.

At some point in the day, Widow ends up back in the study. She sits down at her computer and glances at the photo of her and Gérard.

It can stay there, she decides. She likes history.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m [@tacticalgrandma](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma) on twitter if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments or kudos would mean the world to me 💜


End file.
